


Sleepless

by WitchHobi



Category: Magi: The Labyrinth of Magic
Genre: M/M, Mentions of the other generals, Sinbad reminiscing
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-02-03
Updated: 2015-02-03
Packaged: 2018-03-10 09:26:22
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 889
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3285209
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/WitchHobi/pseuds/WitchHobi
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sinbad Reminiscing and Ja'far having nightmares.</p><p>They both seemed to have trouble sleeping, what time was there for sleep anyways? Reminiscence and night terrors still seemed to take claim of their nights.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Sleepless

__**  
**He couldn’t sleep.  
      It was rare that Sinbad got so much as a full night’s rest; stress from work and from leading Sindria left him weary, but restless nonetheless.   
      Sinbad spent many a night wandering these halls, pondering the time when he was wild and free to come and go as he pleased, when he wasn’t weighed down with responsibility to be a father and king to his country. He wouldn’t hand over Sindria for any sum of money, no matter what freedom it would buy him.   
      Sinbad never told a lie when he said he wasn’t in need of a wife or a child. His country, its citizens, the Eight Generals, they were all he needed.   
  
So he wandered.   
  
      His thoughts wander to Yamuraiha and Sharrkan, both talented and young, fire blazed within their hearts in the passion of their fights or their hardened stares in the face of battle, daring opponents with danger.   
      Pisti who brimmed with humor and compassion.   
      Spartos who acted with conviction and unwavering faith.   
      Masrur, with unmatched strength, but a gentleness in his disposition.   
      Hinahoho, his oldest friend, whose will could be shaken by none.         Drakon, whose loyalty was unshakeable to his core.  
  
      And Ja’far. His earliest subordinate who bears a heavy heart, whose mind bears the scars of his past with dignity, and whose smile, however rare, was brighter than the western sun.   
  
They were his pride.

      In the end they didn’t need him to go on. He’d die and he’d leave his country to Ja’far, they’d choose as a group to do with it what they will.

For in the end Sindria wasn’t his alone.

      Sinbad supposed he couldn’t do anything about those who nagged him to settle down, in the end they were only worried and he appreciated that. It meant his friends, family, they cared.  
      He passed down the hall that lead into some of the sleeping quarters where some of the generals who had refused more luxurious housing resided. Sinbad strode idly down the passage, doors on either side of him all closed, except one.   
       It made him laugh under his breath, Ja’far had always liked a breeze running through his quarters, saying ‘the damned tropical weather is too hot’ and that ‘it’s like hellfire compared to where I’m from.’   
      Ja’far liked to complain about heat, and about Sinbad’s drinking habits, and about the affection Sinbad had gained for him almost immediately. With all the work he did, he had every right to complain once in a while.   
      But a small, broken noise shifted Sinbad out of his thoughts in an instant. Concern washed over him and he slipped through the half-open door. Murmuring a soft apology to Ja’far for intruding, he tread lightly so not to wake his advisor, kneeling at his bedside.   
      Ja’far’s face was pale as ever, his sleeping features scrunched as if he were in pain, his calloused hands clutched the sheets. He mumbled unintelligibly, flinching but not waking when Sinbad rest a gentle hand on his shoulder, prepared to wake him if necessary.

The sound of Sinbad’s heart breaking came as a choked cry.

      “Mother… Father….!”   
      “Ja’far,” Sinbad said softly as he gave his arm a shake, trying not to startle him too badly. “Ja’far wake up.”

      Ja’far woke with a start, his eyes flew open and he jumped backward, instinctively reaching for Balalark Sei before he realized who had woke him. He trembled, muscles slowly relaxing as he slumped back down onto the mattress. “Sin… What are you doing up so late…?”   
      Sinbad didn’t hesitate to sit on the bed, extending an arm for him, “don’t give me that, you worrisome thing, you know very well why I’m here.” His tone grew soft, “now come here, it’s alright.”   
      “Sin, I…” Ja’far began before he decided it was futile, and allowed himself to be taken into Sinbad’s arms. He breathed deeply, the familiar scent of his king calming him as he buried his face into his chest.   
      “You’re alright?” Sinbad asked, even though he knew the answer. He gently rubbed the white haired man’s back, dipping his head to place a kiss against his fair hair.   
      “I am.” Ja’far answered, his voice dry, fatigued, but steady.   
      Sinbad breathed a sigh before he tipped up Ja’far’s chin with his finger, meeting his stormy eyes with a gentle stare, “how about you come and spend the night with me tonight, just like old times?”   
      Ja’far would’ve objected, but he was exhausted, and the idea of company seemed nice to him, so he nodded.   
      With that, Sinbad placed a hand on his cheek, and kissed the tip of the former assassin’s nose before he gave a soft laugh as he stood, gathering Ja’far up in his arms as he went.   
      Ja’far was too tired to struggle, but he still had his temper just as ever, “I am not a child, Sin.” He snapped, “you don’t have to carry me, I’m perfectly capable of walking.”

      Sinbad chuckled, not letting him down, “Ja’far, you always speak of your promise to follow me to the end. But you seem to have forgotten of my end of that promise. I promised that I would be your shelter, your new way of life, and if that means carrying you to bed,” he paused, giving his advisor a smile, “so be it.”


End file.
